Refrain (Soul Series Book 3) (22 page)

It hurts to swallow. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to be perfectly fine when she is in pain and slipping away . . . because of me.

“Just stay with me.” I press my lips to her hair. “Please just . . .”

Kai’s eyes flicker until they close, and blood trickles from one corner of her mouth. Needles of panic sting every limb, injecting me with poison and fear. Pain overwhelms me, sudden and thorough, leaving no part of me untouched. Leaving me numb. I can’t move any more than she can.

“Rhyson.” Bristol rushes over to us onstage, her eyes darting from Kai’s ashen face to mine, her eyes wide and afraid. “Is she . . . Oh, God. We called nine-one-one.”

With visibly trembling fingers, Bristol pushes her hair back.

“The paramedics should be here soon.” She gulps, her lips pressing into a straight line. “They said we should staunch the bleeding. Use your shirt.”

I rip my shirt over my head and search for the source of the blood gurgling from Kai’s back. The shirt quickly becomes red and soaked by the steady, heavy stream.

“Where the hell are they?” I mean to growl the words, but they come out weak. Desperate. Helpless and terrified.

“On their way. They should be close.” Bristol presses her hand on top of mine to add more pressure. “She’s gonna be okay, Rhyson.”

“If she . . . I can’t . . .” I shake my head and clutch Kai closer. “I can’t lose her, Bris.”

“You won’t.” Bristol’s eyes latch onto something over my shoulder, her expression collapsing with relief. “Over here! She’s over here!”

Two paramedics rush onstage with a stretcher. They load Kai quickly and start rolling her back out.

“Desert Springs,” one of them yells back. “If you need to follow.”

I shake off my shock and run after them.

“I’m her husband. I’m riding with her.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Bristol says, her voice stretched thin with fright and stress.

Even as quickly as they’re rolling the gurney, I manage to grab Kai’s hand and keep pace with them. I have to touch her, but as soon as we climb up into the back of the ambulance, they urge me back and away from her. It’s only as my bare back hits the cold ambulance wall that I remember I stripped off my shirt. It lays disregarded, a crimson bundle on the floor.

“Blood pressure’s falling,” one of them says. “Breathing’s not good.”

“Her lips are turning blue. Why are her lips turning blue?” I can’t believe that’s my voice, urgent and demanding. I don’t feel demanding. I feel helpless like I have no rights to anything. Certainly not to the rest of my life with Kai.

“Too much blood. Where’s she hit?” the other asks, not of me, but of the other paramedic. “Let’s get this off.”

He cuts Kai’s tiny pink dress right up the middle. I’m not prepared for all the blood. If I focus on it too much, on seeing my girl like this, I’ll lose my mind. My brain fixates on useless information and minutiae to create a safer space for me. Like how tragedy has a way of stripping us of our privacy and our dignity. Kai wasn’t wearing a bra underneath the dress, and I have to stop myself from covering her up, hiding her small breasts from these strangers. She’d be so self-conscious. The tiny white panties she wears, I gave those to her weeks ago and couldn’t wait to get back up to the room so I could peel them away. The faint marks shadowing the golden skin of her thighs and shoulders—I gave those to her too, when we made love on our wedding night.

She bruises easily
, I want to tell them.

Be careful of her vocal cords
, I stop myself from saying when they intubate, sliding a tube down her throat so she can breathe.

She’s a singer, you know.

Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her?

Oh, God. I’ve already broken my vows. What kind of cruel cosmic joke is it that I’ve been married one day and have already failed to protect my wife? That she may die protecting me? The sirens overpower my guilty thoughts, so loud I can’t focus on anything but the sight of Kai with IVs and tubes and with her dress cut open.

Once we arrive at the hospital, everything seems to go at triple speed. I don’t want to let her out of my sight, but these people flood the small entryway, wheeling her away from me, their faces tight, through wide white doors. I sort through the barrage of medical jargon they hurl at each other, searching for things I understand like jagged pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Low blood pressure. Possible collapsed lung. Bullet. Surgery.

“What’s going on?” I grab the arm of one of the doctors.

Irritation crinkles his expression, and the eyes behind his glasses snap down to my hand holding him back.

“I’m sorry.” I try to take a deep breath, but instead of air, I pull in panic and fear and anger. None of it helping me get the words out. “She’s my wife. They haven’t told me anything. I . . . please . . . just—”

“I can’t tell you much until I get in there.” Dr. Haddow, according to his name badge, softens his frown. “Someone will come back to tell you what’s going on.”

“She’s pregnant.” My hands plow through my hair to grip the back of my neck. “Our baby . . .”

Dr. Haddow’s eyes widen. He shakes his head and turns on his heel toward the doors without responding. I follow him as far as I can. Close enough to hear him bellow.

“She’s pregnant,” he says, sounding almost angry. “This blood will be leaching from the baby. Where the hell is it coming from? We gotta get in there. She ready? Okay. Let’s go.”

And that’s it. That’s all. No one gives me any more information. No one tells me what’s going on with my girls.

You don’t know if it’s a girl yet.

Kai’s so much a part of me, it’s like I still hear her voice answering even in my head. I hear her as clearly as the night we lay safe in our bed, and I traced the prayer wrapping around her ribs, wondering how it will look stretched over my baby growing inside her. But we’re not in our bed. We’re not whispering our dreams to one another like they’re a secret for just us two. And we’re not safe. I couldn’t keep her safe.

The guilt stacks up in my chest like bricks, so heavy I have to fall to my haunches and land on my ass right there in the middle of the emergency room. Elbows to my knees, head hanging and hands pulling at my hair. People rush past, paying me no mind. No one asks me for autographs or says they love my music or wants a picture. This ER is an alternate universe where my fame and my money and any power I have are worthless currency.

“Sir.” A soft voice above me interrupts my implosion. I look up into kind brown eyes set in a young, round face. They widen with recognition.

“Mister . . . Mr. Gray, I’m sorry, but we need to get some information. That was your fiancée they just brought in? Kai Pearson?”

She knows our story.

“My wife.”

Her eyes get even wider.

“Excuse me?”

“She’s my wife, not my fiancée.”

She blinks several times, and I can almost see the images she’s seen running through her mind of me down on one knee in front of Kai on a starry night, offering her a huge sapphire ring. Offering her everything and holding my breath until she accepts. She can’t be more than twenty-five or six. She’s not just a nurse, and this ER isn’t a bubble. She probably reads
US Magazine
. Probably downloaded the
Spotted
app and gets alerts about Kai and me sent directly to her phone. Probably stalks
TMZ
like any other twenty-five-year-old. She blinks at me a few times before clearing her throat, setting aside the fan and asserting her professionalism.

“We’ll need you to complete some basic information for us.”

I’m forcing myself to my feet when Gep, Bristol, and Marlon burst through the doors, their eyes picking through the chaos until they find me.

“Rhys!” Marlon rushes over, flanked by my sister and Gep. “What’s going on? Where’s Kai?”

“Surgery.” My voice has lost the sharpness of panic, yielding to the dullness of pain. “They won’t tell me anything yet. I don’t think they’ll know much until they . . . until they . . .”

I close my eyes and drag my hands over my face. When I open my eyes, all three of them stare at me with the same concern.

“Kai’s father is with us,” Gep says. “He and his daughter are parking.”

“James Pearson?” My body goes stiff, my hand freezing at the back of my neck. “He’s here?”

“He called me.” A frown disrupts the smooth lines of Bristol’s face. “I was the one who got them their tickets and arranged for them to come backstage after the show, so he had my number.”

“Here he comes.” Marlon lifts his chin toward the ER entrance.

“He” is a tall man with dark hair and wide, panicked eyes. At first he looks nothing like Kai. Neither does the blonde teenaged girl at his side. But as he gets closer, I see that resemblance that has less to do with actual shared features and more to do with the unique stamp of shared DNA.

“Where is she?” he demands as a greeting, what’s left of his Southern drawl swallowed up by the sharp words.

“Surgery.” I try to tamp down my misplaced territorialism. He
is
her father, though he’s been a sorry one. She’s not just mine, but I hate that he is the one I have to share her with. Someone who doesn’t deserve her. Who has hurt her. I don’t deserve her. I’ve hurt her, but I love her unconditionally. And this guy’s conditions abandoned Kai for fifteen years.

Before we can get any further, Dr. Haddow walks up, a frenetic energy rolling off him. He’s one of those people who thrives in emergencies. Not in a bad way. In the best way. Where the rest of us get muddled and confused, everything crystallizes for them, and their responses sharpen. I thought I was one of those people until the girl I love more than my own life started turning blue in the ambulance.

“Kai Pearson’s family?” His eyes dart over our little group before landing on me.

“She’s my daughter,” James Pearson answers immediately. “What can you tell us?”

I swallow back a sharp retort. Dr. Haddow glances my way, silently asking my permission. I nod that it’s okay.

“You’ll want to move to the waiting room upstairs.” He hooks two fingers into the mask hanging under his chin. “We’ll know more soon, but what we know now is that Kai’s lung has collapsed. No exit wound. The bullet’s still in there, and we think it may have clipped an artery or something vital. There’s too much blood for it not to have.”

I bite the inside of my jaw until it hurts. Partly to hold back a curse or a moan. I honestly don’t know what would come out of me. And partly to inflict pain on myself, even though it doesn’t compare to what Kai’s experiencing. None of this sounds good. It sounds so much worse than anything I ever imagined Kai would have to endure because I was so careful with her. Because I would always protect her.

“We need to transfuse right away,” Dr. Haddow continues. “I have to tell you, Mr. Gray, that the fetus is not our priority, but we’ll do all we can to keep it viable.”

All eyes land on me.

“Fetus?” James’ brows drop over the questions in his eyes.

“Fetus?” Bristol echoes. “Huh?”

Dr. Haddow’s eyes slide to me, an apology clearly written there.

“It’s all right,” I tell him before turning my attention to everyone else. “Kai’s pregnant.”

“Oh, my God.” Bristol clenches her eyes closed and rests her fist against her lips.

Marlon slips an arm around her, and she drops her head to his shoulder. There’s sympathy in his eyes when they meet mine.

“How far along is your wife?” Dr. Haddow asks.

“Wife?” The wrinkles in James’ forehead disappear as his expression stretches with surprise. “How . . . you . . . you got married? When?”

“Last night.” I’m losing my patience with him. He’s acting like he should be here when I’m not sure he should. He’s acting like he should know things about my life with Kai that I’m not sure he deserves to know. He’s acting like her father, when he’s been anything but for the last decade and a half.

“She’s only about four weeks.” I force the fear back to ask the only question that matters. “Is she still . . . is Kai . . . is the baby . . . are they gonna be okay? Are my girls gonna be okay?”

He doesn’t answer quickly enough for me. I want a practiced, pat answer full of medical arrogance that she’ll be fine. That they’re doing all they can. That the best doctors are doing their best. He doesn’t give me that.

“It’s too early for me to say, Mr. Gray.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “There’s a lot of blood. We’ve inserted a chest tube to re-inflate the lung. The bullet entered through her back on the right side, and lodged in her lung. The trajectory of a bullet is unpredictable. It has a way of not staying where we think it will. We believe it may have nicked an artery. We’re trying to get and keep blood out of her lungs and keep her from hemorrhaging.”

He levels a careful glance my way before going on.

“The body protects what is most important for its survival.” He shrugs. “It’s the way we’re designed. So all the blood is going where it’s needed, and that is not to the fetus.”

“Baby.” I allow one anxious breath to say the word. “Could we just say ‘baby’? ‘Fetus’ is . . .”

“The
baby
is not the priority of Kai’s body right now,” Dr. Haddow continues. “Survival is, and it’s sending all of its resources to where it’s injured. If there’s any hope of saving this pregnancy, we have to transfuse right away.”

“Okay.” My heart lifts that he’s even thinking about saving the pregnancy. “Yes. Do that. Do whatever it takes to save Kai. To save the baby.”

“Kai has the most common blood type for donating, O negative,” the doctor says. “Basically anyone can receive from her, but
she
can only receive from other O negative donors. We had a pile up last week that badly depleted our blood supply. Are any of you—”

“I’m O negative.” The blonde teenager speaks up for the first time. I’d almost forgotten she was there, standing just beyond our circle. Cassie looks nothing like my girl, but there is something in her eyes—a fight, a resolve that I always assumed Kai got from circumstances. Maybe it was inherited after all.

“I had a bad cut last year.” Cassie’s voice gets softer with all the adults looking at her. “I found out then I was O negative.”